I am NOT a Mary Sue!
by Night Strider
Summary: Kiyota meets the most perfect girl in the world who denies that she's a Mary Sue! KiyotaxOC. Kiyota's POV. Non-yaoi.RnR! Dedicated to Bet You Love That.


I am NOT a Mary Sue!

Disclaimer: I don't own SD, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Marked names are not mine as well.

A/N: Hi! I'm Night Strider; I love myself and Kiyota Nobunaga. I'm making a fic about him and a certain girl (guess who). Omigosh! I'm so excited. This is PURE self insert and I want to make the readers feel how much I really, really LOVE Kiyota. This fic is dedicated to Bet You Love That, my most outstanding flamer (because I know she loves Mary Sues). First of all, this is my first Mary Sue/Self-insert/OC story so please be nice. Don't flame or MST me, especially those who are in livejournal communities, I'm warning you or I'll cry, crumble, and die after that.

Summary: Kiyota meets a girl who's so perfect but denies that she's a Mary Sue! KiyotaxOC. Kiyota's POV. RnR! Dedicated to Bet You Love That.

Darn. I've been burning my bum on this stiff stool for approximately 30 minutes. Yeah, 30 godawful minutes. Imagine how many buckets I could've drowned within that horrendous span of time. In practice when I pull my springs in the same duration, I estimate the numbers of shots I knock down between 250-300 including the attempts. Those are the times that I can brand recreational, fulfilling, and challenging. Instead of hoisting myself up through my social ladder and partying out and all, I'd rather whet my basketball skills.

But now where the hell am I? Inside a 'caffeinated', elitist quarter full of cocoa nut grinders and corning cups; I don't even know why they sell stuff like these at Seattle's Best. I mean, look at the goddamn place; it reeks of urban sophistication and utilitarian luxury and I can't even find the air within it where I can breathe comfortably. I've never really known the optimal, substantive meaning of being pathetic until I plummeted myself in this oh so awesome predicament that precedes blind dating. If you still haven't got the drift, suffice it to say that I've been literally frying my ass waiting for someone. As of now, I have nothing to share my intimacy with except for this condensed plastic straw that's probably so grossed out by the flavor of Kiyota Nobunaga's glucose filled saliva. And you bet my gums are so scarred by the macabre sweetness of mocha delight; I've quaffed 3 tall disposable cups of it so far. Brain freeze or an imminent LBM, I'm still not backing out. Jin assured me that this girl is a complete hotshot; cool, sexy, and suave. Don't even ask me where she's been manufactured; the hell would it matter anyway? I'm damned euphoric just by picturing her.

Lalalala. I learned in my junior high days that in some highly civilized countries, it is prescribed to be late on a rendezvous because to come on time is ironically impolite. I didn't know Japanese people adopt the same platonic principle. Jin for instance is more than half an hour late, I wonder why. I've been ringing his mobile 8 times now but I guess he beamed it to a silent mode and isn't able to (or deliberately did not) pay attention to my urgency. Damn Soichiro. Tardiness sort of runs counter to his character; he has always been this ever-present, perfect schedule award recipient. Propriety personified stickler that he is. But today is a little derogatory to his spotless reputation, 37 minutes too late; what a disgrace, and he owes me that time too.

I languish back on the stool, tapping on the bar table to make the dent even more obvious. I wish I could've brought my Gameboy Advance along so I wouldn't look so much like an abandoned psychedelic in this stupid place. Kuso. Where the fuck---

'Nobunaga! Hahahaha. You're here; have you been waiting too long?' Jin's voice bangs out as a pat lands on my shoulder. After a billion years; he's arrived.

'Not really, about ten years in fact.' I snap with a sardonic grimace. Jin is strangely stylish today; Gap tank top and Nautica windbreaker. 'So what's up?'

'Yeah, everything's good. Mari Su is here and she's dying to meet you.' Jin smiles as he gestures to his back; a girl appears just then, and let me say that history changes at this point.

'Nobunaga, this is Mari Su, my second cousin from Spain.' Jin smiles; the ilk that glitters with pride, like a parent whose child has just been named valedictorian. He gesticulates for me to pay homage and I swiftly respond with a slovenly curtsy as if it were the empress of the heavens I was greeting.

'Como estas tu, Nobunaga?' Mari Su says demurely in a sing song. Her voice has the distinctive quality of a flute piped by Athena and as she utters this, nature seems to quell down to listen. She must be a divinity to effect such grace but…what the bloody fuck is 'Como estas tu?' I shrink to an awkward quietness, having found my throat unequipped with the similar language.

'Mari, el no habla Espanol. Nobu-chan es Japones.' Jin faces his cousin and, as it seems to me, explains what needs to be. Mari hastily nods 'Verdad que si?' and turns to me.

'How are you, Nobunaga?' She says in accented Japanese yet the way she pronounces it is not less than alluring; with the deep emphasis on R as it the word is spelt with the doubled alphabet and the lushness of B. It's so Latin I'm feeling very much like I'm sun bathing in Miami Beach. Sugoi!

'I'm great, Mari Su. I'm great.' I assure her with a semi lubricious, semi scholarly smile. This is a lot more than fascinating; view this, me dating a hell of a girl who's got a supermodel's caliber. Whoa, this must be my ever so awaited heyday, neh?

'Hey, Nobunaga. Mari wants to dine at Grilla Bar. Come, let's board on her Limo.' Jin suddenly signals and makes a motion to split from the accursed shop whose pretty ambience Mari melds with very well. Mari strides in heel and toe to follow her cousin.

Limo? She has a Limo? She must be a fully loaded gal then with grown pockets and some jingle jangles. Man, I didn't cadge for so lavish a present as this. I trail them to the said vehicle and there I'm finally taught, despite my ignoramus educational extent, how the rich and posh feed themselves pampered. The limo is actually a Lincoln luxury wheels and it is stretched thrice; it is chaste white with a tinted sun roof and seems to glimmer silver under the sunshine. We stuff ourselves in for a very smooth ride along Kanagawa NW highway heading to the Metropolis Arcade. Oh man, need I mention how I'm feeling at the present? She's so unreachable, a capstone of highness and far-fetchedness and all the probable impossibilities of womanhood. I can't find the right words now but…let me just describe her to you at the voided moment.

Her hair is a thin sheet of sparkling silver that throws back leeward upon the sea breeze's whistle. Her skin is an absolute exuberance of freshly picked lilies' whiteness that seems to glow in response to the galactic lights that steal their way to the earth. Her teeth are set in perfect congruence with her gum's concavity and are even whiter than a polished pearl. But her eyes showcase the rest of her unrivaled charms; they are a pair of amazing blue orbs that penetrate the soul of their beholder. And wait, they aren't actually azure as a cloudless heaven; they're leaning towards the hue of purple and indigo as well. But this only happens in a quick second when they are shaded by a loftier shadow. Can she be human? If not for the mortal raiment that clads her now (denim Ralph Lauren micro minis and V-neck sleeveless DKNY top), she must be mistaken for Osiris. Gags. Jin's portrayal of Mari Su's appearance prior to this meeting turns out to be an ignominious understatement made up by some poetically challenged cretin. I mean, this girl is not jus a cool, sexy suave inamorata. Obviously.

I'm lost in that pensive reverie, meticulously analyzing her features. I find no single flaw that besmirches this person; everything in her extravagant exterior is not just supreme but something else. Yeah, something else; when one looks at her, her beauty to be exact, he/she can right away presume that this creature is just as great in the inside. I don't know, but that's how I see her now as I recline myself on her limo's luxury seat sandwiched between her and Jin. Too high. 'She's so high'; funny how Blur's top chart single befits Mari Su. I want to sing it to her right now but sad to say, the anarchic chauffeur is playing the 'anthemic', super roughed gaudy song of Good Charlotte; 'Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous.' It's inflicting a massacre on my eardrums; darn, I hate punk rock. Punk Rock should've died along with Jimi Hendrix and his tawdry music and fuzzy riffs. Believe me; it sucks worse than the black hole.

Arghhh, what the hell. I'm beside the most beautiful girl for crying out loud; why am I making things complicated for myself anyway? I must segue from this ponderous senselessness and concentrate instead on how to impress this girl. I shouldn't be underwhelming her by fussing over a crappy song like that. But heck, where am I to begin? I want to frickin' ask so many things about her like why is she so incredibly good looking, and filthy rich, and graceful, and reserved, and why does she rock so hard she's rockin' my world….

And as if Jin reads the helter-skelter shit in my mind,

'Mari Su is actually a melting pot of all godly races; Japanese, Spanish, Italian, Greek, Filipino, Malaysian, French, German, Russian, and other miscellaneous blood ethnicity. That's why her beauty is such. She has been in the covers of motley puny and big time fashion and beauty magazines and has starred in a couple of movies. But since the set and the film making's demands tired her she settled to live a normal life as an exceptional student. She's quite used to a number of European and Asian tongues that's why her linguist professors are so bloody proud of her. She's one fiery mathematician too and an extremely talented creative and news writer. She loves philosophy and psychology and just about every course available in the world. Her IQ is 146. She's an excellent athlete too; a polo varsity, a swimmer, a volleyball star, a tennis top player, and ah, her shooting is almost, if not simply as, as good as mine. You ought to invite her to a one on one, Nobunaga.'

My eyes bulge out after a wacky, preposterous moment. I'm beginning to run out of oxygen, and a claustrophobic attack seems to tweak my disconcerted sensorium. I'm in the verge of gasping like a strangled chicken with my hands on my esophagus; I'm freakin' choking with incredulity! No, she can't be all that. She's…If Jin warned me beforehand of the glorious fact that she's athletic, I wouldn't have been this swiped and slack jawed like a neurotic 3 year old apoplectic with something like stunned muscle. Come on dude, even the goddess Artemis cannot vie with such perfection. This is disorienting me like Jason goes to hell. Basketball plus good looks? As far as my convoluted shaft of awareness is concerned, I'm the only one who has both in Kanagawa. But Mari Su is a straight A student with an above average IQ and a catalogue of multifarious languages stocked inside her vast braincase. I must be near perfect but I'm not that illogically perfect. Bulldung. She's a…Mari Su is a…

'Mary Sue!' I inadvertently shout aloud, pointing my quavering, accusing finger at the person in question.

TBC

Endnote: Thanks for reading. I hope you like it. I'm gonna be working on the next chapter soon enough.


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